John Patrick Daley was born on this day in Providence, Rhode Island to the late Joan Louise (Riley) Daley (1929-2019) and the late Frederick “Nick” Daley (1927-1991). John’s paternal grandmother was the late Delia “Bridget” Calahan. A true woman of Eire, whose Irish lilt would make you smile, she would be very proud of her grandson. John’s maternal grandfather was the late Patrick J. Riley (1900-1985).
Along with his four siblings (Tammie, Maryanne, Lynne and Beth), John grew up in Pawtucket on Catherine Street, just off Columbus Avenue. He went to school in Pawtucket and graduated from Tolman High School. Even as a young boy and adolescent, John had the type of personality that, at a minimum, was outgoing and infectious. He has always had a cadre of friends. Everyone knew John and John knew everyone. To this day, John is still fast friends with many of his childhood buddies. All one has to do is sit with him at a ballgame anywhere in the Blackstone Valley, whether it be little league or a top flight high school game, and you’ll witness the constant flow of enthusiastic greetings and embraces from his many acquaintances and friends.
Being a Daley, he played baseball. Whether it be minor league, where most of the little guys paid more attention to the post game snacks than the baseball, or in a very good Darlington Little League, John played hard and played well.
A “Senior Little League” game played in Slater Park best illustrates John’s hard-nosed attitude and devotion to the game. I was sitting in the stands with his dad and his uncle, Dick Fleury. It was an ordinary game like so many before it, but it took a turn that caused it to be etched in my mind forever. John was behind the plate, handling the game and his pitcher with ease. At the time, John was maybe 5’6″ or 5’7″ with a skin-and-bones look that testified to his 120 pound physique. There was a runner on second, and then a hit to left. There would be a play at the plate. As the throw came in from left field, John straddled the plate. He moved up the baseline a foot or two to assume a defiant and defensive position that even Carlton Fisk or Jason Varitek would have admired. The throw from the outfield reached John’s catcher’s mitt a second or two before the baserunner lowered his 5’10” and 165 pound frame dead smack into Johnny’s mitt and chest! The resulting dramatic impact not only drew gasps and some expletive shouts, but it sent John flying up in the air and backwards towards the backstop. As the dirt flew and the dust settled, John could be seen laying still on the ground. His dad hopped the fence and was on his way to his motionless son, but at that moment John gave us a glimpse of that defiant attitude that has come to serve him well. He got to his knees, then stood up straight, dusted himself off and went back behind the plate to continue the game. It was great! He was great! The only thing missing was some loudspeaker blasting the theme from a “Rocky” movie. His uncle Dick, who had played some semi-pro softball himself as a catcher, said that he had never seen such a home plate collision. It might have been a knockdown, but John wouldn’t let it be a knockout.
One of John’s best decisions in was marrying Debbie Troufield. On a very cold evening on December 21, 1997, John and Debbie began their married life together at the Grace Community Church in Seekonk, Massachusetts. John is very fortunate to have found a life partner with such kindness, grace and love for others. She is a gift.
John and Deb now have two sons, John Frederick called “Nick” and Patrick John. John was also stepfather to the late Joshua Troufield.
And of special note, John and Debbie have been fostering children in their Attleboro home for many years.
Here’s to ya, Johnny. Happy Birthday and take two and hit to right.
19 Pond Street 